When the cab came to a stop, Cliff, peering forth, saw another solitary vehicle two hundred feet ahead.
He decided that it must be the cab that he was following.
Speaking in a low voice to the driver, Cliff told the man to wait. He thrust a handful of French coins into the driver’s hand, and promised more upon his return.
SLOWLY approaching the cab ahead, Cliff saw the heavy-set form of Senov on the curb. The Russian’s vehicle departed, and Cliff took up the trail on foot.
He threaded his way through devious alleys, and finally saw his man enter the gate that adjoined an old, dilapidated underground cafe.
A sign gave Cliff the name of the establishment. In dim letters on a battered sign he read the words: L’AIGLE D’ARGENT
Cliff repeated the name in English as he returned to the place where his cabman was waiting.
“The Silver Eagle,” he murmured to himself. “Never heard of it before. Wonder if it’s an Apache hangout.”
Reaching the cab, he drew a sheet of paper from his pocket and inscribed a brief note with his fountain pen. The words that he wrote were in a special code that he used in all negotiations with The Shadow.
Cliff folded the note hurriedly, and placed it in an envelope. He used another pen to write the address.